


The Aphrodisiac Affair

by Amedia



Category: The Man From U.N.C.L.E.
Genre: Drugs Made Them Do It, Episode Style, First Time, M/M, Mr. Waverly is a bit of a voyeur, Napoleon is double-jointed, Strawberry body oil
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-27
Updated: 2014-07-27
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amedia/pseuds/Amedia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mr. Waverly sends Napoleon and Illya to thwart THRUSH's latest plan. Hijinks ensue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Aphrodisiac Affair

**Author's Note:**

> Originally printed in ROSE TINT MY WORLD 3 in 1991.
> 
> Paulle recruited me to write for her lovely zine, and I noticed that her submission guidelines included the very sensible rule that the agents would not have sex while they were working on a mission, because that would be unprofessional. I began trying to think of a way to break that rule in a way that Paulle would find acceptable--and managed to succeed!
> 
> Quaint historical note: I believe that this is the first story I submitted electronically--which in those days meant that I mailed her a floppy disk.

The Aphrodisiac Affair

by Amedia

 

Act One: _You're thinking of Narcissus again_

"Good morning, gentlemen," said Mr. Waverly as Illya and Napoleon entered his office. "We've received a communique from THRUSH. A film, and a letter; I believe you will find them both interesting."

He pressed a button; the lights went down and a projector came on. Two women were ushering a man into a hotel room. "I'm sure you'll recognize Narcissus Darling - one of your favorite 'birds,' Mr. Solo." Napoleon winced. "Her partner, also a THRUSH agent, is Audacity Deluxe. The gentleman being urged into the room at gunpoint is a respectable congressman from a Midwestern state - I need not mention his name." The brunette with the gun left, and the bewildered politician stared at the blonde. He seemed about to ask a question, when a cloud of gas enveloped both of them. "The effects of the gas, according to this letter from THRUSH, are infallible. They believe it is an ultimate political weapon." 

"What effect. . . .?" Napoleon's voice trailed off. The congressman and the THRUSH agent had both torn their clothes off and were frantically making love.

"That's amazing," said Napoleon. 

"Yes, one doesn't expect this sort of behavior from respected public officials," Illya agreed. "Even in your country."

"That's not what I meant," said Napoleon, too intrigued to respond to the barb. "Narcissus is letting him muss up her hair!"

Illya put his glasses on and peered at the screen. "My God, you're right! That must be a powerful gas!"

Waverly pushed another button, and the film went off, the lights went back on. "All inhibitions are overridden. Its immediate effects are obvious; they are apparently accompanied by amnesia of the incident. You can imagine the possibilities for scandal. They claim they can discredit anyone - any politician, any public figure, any intelligence operative. . . . Our mission is obvious, gentlemen. I need you to destroy their lab and all existing supplies of the gas."

"What about discovering an antidote, sir?" asked Napoleon.

"Really, Mr. Solo. We can hardly launch a vaccination drive to inoculate every public figure. What would we say to them? 'Excuse me, Mr. Senator, I'm trying to stop you from turning into a sex maniac?'"

Napoleon coughed, embarrassed. Illya changed the subject. "How do you suggest we proceed?"

Waverly puffed throughtfully on his pipe. "THRUSH did threaten to discredit us, as well. I think if you offered yourselves as bait, they would be very likely to capture you. Once inside their base, I would trust to your cunning and resourcefulness to enable you to destroy the operation."

"Indeed," said Napoleon thoughtfully. 

Waverly seemed to read his mind. "It is of course entirely possible that you yourselves may be exposed to the substance. In which case, gentlemen, I will expect you to do your best."

Napoleon straightened his tie. "I regret that I have but one life to give for my Uncle."

Illya kicked him. "You're thinking of Narcissus again, aren't you?"

Mr. Waverly cleared his throat. "You must be prepared for every eventuality." He resumed a business attitude. "Now, we have reason to belivee that the lab is located in or near this very city, and we have narrowed down the area in which we expect they might be working. I suggest you simply take a car out in that direction and endeavor to attract their attention."

* * *

Act Two: _Lie back and think of Mr. Waverly_

They had been driving for only half an hour when Illya said, "We're being followed. Don't make it look too easy." Napoleon endeavored without enthusiasm to shake the black sedan that hovered in his rear-view mirror, and was relieved when he did not succeed. Eventually a similar car appeared before them, and they were forced to stop. THRUSH agents poured from both cars and surrounded the U.N.C.L.E. team.

"Look what we found," sneered the apparent leader, a nondescript man in a dark suit. "Mr. Waverly's fair-haired nephews. When we get through with them, even their dear uncle will disown them!" He turned to a guard. "Frisk them, get their communicators, don't miss any explosives they might be carrying. Then we'll be going for a little ride." 

Napoleon and Illya were shoved none too gently into the back of one of the THRUSH cars. Guns poked into their ribs with the usual THRUSH subtlety. It was a short ride to the base, an abandoned motel, and they were led rapidly through the halls to a room and thrown inside.

Their prison resembled an ordinary hotel room, with a king-sized bed, table and chairs, and a dresser - plus bars on the windows and two armed guards just outside. "I don't see how we're going to destroy the place just yet," Illya complained.

"Oh, we'll think of something," said Napoleon confidently.

"You don't seem very worried."

"Just think," Napoleon said dreamily. "Any minute now, that door will open and Narcissus Darling and Audacity Deluxe will wiggle in here." He described an hourglass shape in the air with his hands. "And then they'll turn on the aphrodisiac gas." Illya grimaced and Napoleon chuckled. "And then we get to make like a freight train and couple." Illya still wasn't smiling. Napoleon regarded him with suspicion. "What's the matter? Don't you think this is the best THRUSH experiment in which we've ever participated?"

Illya shook his head. "Napoleon," he began diffidently, "I think there's a possibility that has escaped your notice. Suppose no door opens, no girls undulate in," he mimicked Napoleon's gesture, "and they still turn on the gas?" He cocked a challenging eyebrow at his partner.

"In that case, Illya," said Napoleon, unflappable, "we'll simply have to do our duty. Lie back and think of Mr. Waverly."

As if on cue, a hissing sound began to fill the room.

* * *

Act Three: _Must have been quite a party_

Illya opened his eyes. They were sticky with sleepy sand and he raised his hands to rub them. He yawned, gave a half stretch, and looked around. He froze in mid-stretch. He was sprawled on the large and mussed-up bed. The room was in a state of considerable disarray. He recognized his pants draped over a light fixture and Napoleon's shirt in a crumpled wad on the bureau. The chairs were stacked on top of each other and the table turned on one side.

Napoleon was asleep beside him, wearing only his tie, which was knotted flawlessly around his neck. Illya nudged him. "Napoleon! Wake up, Napoleon!"

Napoleon groaned and rolled over. "Mmm," he said, snuggled up onto Illya's shoulder, and went back to sleep.

Illya pushed him off. "Na-POL-eon!"

Napoleon opened one eye. Then the other. Then he sat straight up in bed and looked around. He saw the room with its tumbled furniture, Illya's underwear neatly folded on top of the television and his own suitcoat dangling from the ceiling fan. And Illya himself, of course, who was lying on his side, head propped neatly up with one elbow, wearing only his skin. Napoleon looked down at himself and saw the tie.

"Illya. . . ." his voice faltered and he tried again more firmly. "Illya, did we just spend an entire afternoon of headlong debauchery and we don't even remember it?"

"'Fraid so," said Illya absently. He was trying to read Napoleon's watch, which was hanging upside down from a sconce just over his head. "It's been six hours since THRUSH released the gas."

Napoleon sniffed the air. "What's that smell?"

"Strawberry body oil," said Illya promptly, handing Napoleon an empty bottle from the nightstand. "It's all over both of us. I'm trying to figure out how we got some on the ceiling." He pointed to a pinkish smudge in the corner.

Napoleon followed his line of sight, then looked back at him. "Must've been quite a party."

A rare grin flashed across Illya's face. "I wonder what Mr. Waverly would have thought."

"To be honest with you, gentlemen," came a voice from a hidden speaker, "we were very disappointed in Mr. Waverly's reaction. We transmitted the entire episode directly to his office in U.N.C.L.E. headquarters and his exact response - and I quote - was: "I do hope Mr. Kuryakin didn't hurt himself. I didn't realize Mr. Solo was double-jointed."

Napoleon smirked. Illya blushed. The voice continued. "Mr. Waverly then requested a copy of the film for use in U.N.C.L.E. training centers, to demonstrate the importance of agility, dexterity, and endurance. He was very disappointed when you broke the camera."

Napoleon could no longer contain himself. He exploded into laughter. Beside him, Illya was shaking with suppressed mirth.

"Since we are unable, it seems, to use you to blackmail U.N.C.L.E., I fear we have only one choice left."

"Ah, you're going to let us go."

"No, Mr. Solo. We're going to kill you." The door opened and two armed guards stepped in. They raised their guns to fire - and paused, uncertain. Traces of the aphrodisiac gas lingered in the air, and they saw their intended victims in a very different light than usual. Napoleon was diving modestly for the covers, accidentally affording them a very nice rear view; and Illya, with a seductive smile, winked very slowly. The guards walked forward, mesmerized. A moment later they were disarmed; two moments later they were both unconscious.

The two U.N.C.L.E. agents moved quickly around the room, collecting various pieces of clothing and dressing rapidly. Napoleon retrieved his socks from the overhead luggage rack; Illya found his tied in a knot and draped over the thermostat.

Once dressed, they seized the guards' guns and headed out the door. "I saw the lab when we were brought in," said Illya. "It's down that way."

"First we need the armory," said Napoleon. "Can't blow up the lab without explosives." A few minutes of skulking brought them to a likely-looking door with the THRUSH symbol and an "Authorized Personnel Only" sign on it. They stood one on each side of the door, and Napoleon opened it carefully. It opened outward.

The good news was that this was indeed the armory: a walk-in linen closet now stacked with THRUSH rifles, hand grenades, and other supplies. The bad news was the guard, who whipped out his gun to cover Napoleon. The U.N.C.L.E. agent raised his hands over his head and walked backward into the hall, maneuvering the THRUSH out along with him. As soon as the guard was out of the closet, Illya sprang from behind the door and knocked him out.

"Thanks," said Napoleon.

"Don't mention it," said Illya. He stepped into the armory and filled his pockets with demolition supplies. Napoleon dragged in the guard, and they stepped out and shut the door.

"Let's get to the lab," said Napoleon.

"No, wait," said Illya. " They may have some of the gas stored elsewhere in the building besides the lab. Let's get to the basement. We've got enough here to blow the whole building. There's no one but THRUSH here - the rest of the building is deserted."

A few minutes later the charges were set. "How long?" asked Napoleon.

Illya checked the timers against his watch. "Ten minutes," he said. There was a clamor from above, sounds of feet running and alarms ringing. "They've discovered that we're missing," he added unnecessarily.

"In that case," suggested Napoleon, "let's make like a couturier, and get the frock out of here."

* * *

Act Four: _You handled yourselves very well_

"Well, gentlemen," said Mr. Waverly about an hour later, "I must congratulate you. You succeeded in destroying the lab and handled yourselves very well."

We seem to have handled each other pretty well, too, thought Napoleon. He cleared his throat "I understand that we destroyed all of THRUSH's tapes of the various, ah, incidents, sir. However, they did inform us that a transmission had been made to this office - "

"Unfortunately," said Waverly smoothly, "I did not record that particular incident."

Napoleon and Illya exchanged looks - and sighs - of relief. "You are dismissed, gentlemen. I will expect a full report - as full as your memories can manage - tomorrow morning."

"Yes, sir," chorused his agents, and left. As soon as they were out of earshot, Waverly pressed the intercom button. "Miss Rogers, were you able to record that incoming transmission earlier this afternoon?"

Lisa wondered what it could possibly have been. Then she shrugged. Probably some boring technical documents. "Yes, sir, I have the cartridge right here."

"Put it in File Forty immediately. Assign it code number Eleven-Slash-Two. Restrict access to Section One, Number One."

"Yes, sir. Right away, sir." 

***

"Well, said Napoleon, as they stepped out of U.N.C.L.E. headquarters into Del Floria's tailor shop, "that was certainly unique in my experience. And I don't even remember it!" He nodded to Mr. Del Floria and opened the door.

"You know," said Illya unexpectedly as they emerged onto the street, "it really doesn't seem fair. Judging my Mr. Waverly's reaction we had an enormously entertaining afternoon. I'm almost disappointed there's no tape. Now we'll never know what we missed."

Napoleon draped a friendly arm around his shoulder. "Oh, I don't know about that." Illya looked up at him. Napoleon grinned devilishly. "What are you doing tonight?"

Illya tucked his arm around Napoleon's waist. "I thought you'd never ask."


End file.
